Dragon ball Z: Polaris
by TheAcheronFlow
Summary: This fight is different. It's no longer just about fighting for what's right, or for survival, or for revenge. It's for all of it. It's for everything. From the brightest star in the night sky comes the darkest threat that Earth will ever face. As the body count grows, the Z-Fighters must decide if victory is worth the cost. [Villain is OC (yet complex), characters use expletives.]
1. Chapter 1: Arrival

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, or Dragon Ball GT. These ideas and entities are owned by FUNimation, Toei Animation, Fuji TV, and Akira Toriyama. Please support the official release. I DO, however, own the main antagonist. :)

The sun is strong, set just short of apex in the deep blue sky. He looks up and sighs, shielding his eyes from the torrent of heat baking the ground around him. Leaning over, he glares at a beetle struggling to navigate the arid soil that used to be his crops. He wells spit in his mouth and lets it slide out between his parched lips, splashing the passing beetle aside and onto its back. He grabs hold of his belt and pulls up against his rotund form, grunting a laugh as he turns back and starts toward home.

He only takes a few stumbling steps before a deafening snap, much like the crack of a colossal whip, echoes in the field behind him. With a hint of agitation, he turns towards the sound and immediately freezes in his tracks. Not more than twenty paces from him is a glowing, ethereal figure of indistinct form. Swirls of uplifted soil spiral around the figure and slowly settle to the ground. The farmer adjusts his stance and faces forward, his mouth gaping as his thoughts race to explain what he's seeing. After a few moments, the glowing subsides and shapeless mass begins to take a defined form. As the last of the misted soil is blown aside by a strong gust, the farmer takes an unconscious step forward and eyes the strange humanoid standing before him.

He is no taller than an average man, brown hair at a medium length with a slender, sinewy form. He wears what looks to be a hex-patterned matte gray uniform, lightly padded at the shoulders and abdomen. A dark, crimson stripe runs from his right shoulder, down his chest and side, trailing over his thigh and ending at his right ankle. He wears flat bronzed rings on each wrist and ankle, and adorns a thin, golden halo shaped vaguely like a laurel wreath that hovers around his head, wrapping back from each temple.

The figure begins to take in stuttered breaths, and turns around to examine the scenery. On his back, golden brackets cap each vertebra down to his lumbar. Two large, sloped bronze slabs rest upon each shoulder blade. The farmer can't help but chuckle in amazement, but his amusement quickly turns to apprehension as the figure snaps his gaze towards him and locks eyes. The farmer gathers just enough courage to whisper a greeting before the uniformed stranger begins to walk towards him.

Taking a clumsy step backward, the farmer manages to sputter out a sentence; "H-hey, who are you?"

The figure doesn't respond, continuing forward as he comes within a few feet of the frightened man. With his last ounce of courage, the farmer reaches behind him and grasps the hay hook lodged in his back pocket. Just as he's about to pull it forward, the figure stops and cocks his head slightly to the right, inspecting the farmer pensively. His eyes search over the man's plump body, from his bald, tanned head, over his wrinkled, splotchy face, down his faded blue overalls and ending at his tattered, dusty boots. The figure's eyes shoot back up to meet the farmers'.

Much to the surprise of the farmer, the strange figure speaks comprehensibly; "Where is Goku, known in prime as Kakarot?"

The farmer, still stunned, shrugs and forces a feeble, "Dunno." The figure, still wearing a lax expression on his lean, youthful face, maintains his glare and begins to slowly raise his hand, palm down, up to the farmer's chest. Very slowly, the farmer releases his grip on the hay hook and cautiously raises his hand underneath the outstretched one in front of him. He cups his hand and smiles, expecting some otherworldly token of greeting from this strange, uniformed man. His eyes widen as a faint white glow begins to emit from between their hands. The figure retracts his arm as the farmer grins in astonishment at the tiny pebble of light hovering just above his hand. Before he can mutter his thanks, the figure steps backward and seems to disappear into ethereal space.

The farmer laughs to himself, still amused at the heavenly glow settling into his hand. A strange calm washes over him as the light, drifting ever so slowly downward, comes into contact with his skin. In an instant, the glow expands and shatters outward, as shards of light explode in every direction. The farmer jumps nervously, and begins to feel faint as his left eye fades to red and a thousand tiny wounds begin to seep blood all over his body. He falls to the ground as his lungs fail to take in breath. Fear and confusion sweep over him as he struggles to lift his head from the dirt and examine his broken body for the last time. As his vision blurs and darkens, he resigns himself to his fate.

The last thing he sees is a familiar beetle, slickened with spit, crawling over his chest.

Polaris, Chapter 1. Age 774, April 28, 4:48 pm.

A pair of vociferous grunts rises above the woods near Goku's home in the East District. Two fists, excelled at nearly the speed of light, collide in the midst of the tranquil forest. Leaves, shaken from impact, fall to the forest floor and are swept aside by recurring rings of small sonic blasts. In a clearing of trees, Goku and Vegeta hold fast at each others' shoulders. Brief sputters of electrical discharge seem to dance around them as they exchange glares.

"Family life has softened you, Kakarot," Vegeta smirks.

Goku shifts his right foot forward and twists his wrists inward, pulling Vegeta past him and throwing him into a nearby tree. With a thunderous crackling, the tree shatters as Vegeta passes through it. As he rolls on the ground coming to settle on one knee, Goku yells to him, "Speak for yourself, Vegeta."

In typical fashion, Vegeta grunts to himself, and, still smirking, jets forward leaving a burst of dirt and leaves in his wake. Goku barely has time to dodge, bending backwards as Vegeta's fist passes only millimeters from his face. But before he can launch his counter, Vegeta rotates his body and connects with an aerial backfist to Goku's chest. As his body impacts and ripples the ground, Goku deftly raises his hands to form a Kamehameha just as Vegeta, rotating once again to face him, unleashes a powerful flash blast from his right hand.

In a brilliant burst of light, the forest is threaded with a soft blue glow. As the dirt and vapor clears beneath his hand, Vegeta's smirk contorts into a frown. The singed ground beneath him is barren.

"You almost got me that time," Goku bellows from above, his hands still readied for a Kamehameha wave. Vegeta sighs and settles his feet on the ground.

"That technique is cheap and you know it," he replies, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Goku laughs and lands next to Vegeta holding his chest. "That feign caught me off guard. I guess it's just reflex," he chuckles.

As they both walk towards the edge of the clearing, Vegeta turns his nose to the wind; "Mmm… smells like the food's done. I'll race you the—" Before he can finish, Goku cries out in excitement and places two fingers on his forehead and disappears instantly.

"You f***ing cheater!" Vegeta blurts, sprinting into the forest.

West City Commerce Bank, 4:12 pm.

A teller counts her drawer down following a large transaction. As she shuffles through a pile of paper notes, she hears grunts and protestations coming from the line opposite the teller window. As patrons are pushed aside, she can see a slender young man wearing a padded gray uniform and bronze bracelets approach the counter. He stops at the window and presses his finger to the glass. Just as a disgruntled customer approaches from behind, the young man's finger begins to pulse light as it passes clean through the pane of glass as if it weren't even there. As the teller and customers look on in disbelief, the mysterious man starts to carve a circle into the window, streaming molten glass onto the teller's desk. The teller jumps from her chair as the half-molten disc of glass from the center of the window tumbles off her desk and shatters on the ground.

The young man leans forward and in a smooth, baritone voice, asks the teller, "Is this a repository of civil information?"

Still dumbfounded, the teller simply stares at him. The mysterious man leans in just a little farther and repeats, "Is this a repository of civil or public information?" The teller swallows, and replies, "Uh, this is a bank, sir… can I help you?"

With a noticeable tone of frustration, he simplifies his request; "Can you give me information on Goku, known in prime as Kakarot?" Glancing to her left, she can see a guard gesturing her as his hand rests on his gun. She wags her hand beneath the counter and motions for him to stay where he is.

"Well, sir," she continues, "we do have client information on record here, but only if you're family. What's your name, sir?" The young man sighs heavily, ignoring the question.

"Where is the domicile of Goku, known in prime as Kakarot? I must see him," he adds. "Sir, I can only give you that information if—"

Without warning, the young man raises his hand once more and presses his palm flat against the glass, sending a pulse through his fingers that shatters the entire window. As frightened patrons scream and flee, the guard stutters forward and pulls his gun and draws a bead between the young man's eyes.

"Hold it right where you are, buddy," the guard shouts. With only a passing glance, the mysterious man in gray flares his eyes as the barrel of the gun glows white and begins to melt.

The frightened guard drops the gun and backs against the wall as the young man leans further towards the teller, and in a stern, agitated tone asks, "Would you _please_ give me the location of Goku, known in prime as Kakarot?" With a nervous nod, the teller types furiously and pulls up a file on her computer.

"Uh, it says here he lives at 439 East District," she replies. "Why do you want to know?"

Wearing the faintest look of satisfaction, the young man raises his hand and holds out his index finger, creating a marble-sized ball of light. He tilts his head and flashes the teller an eerie smile before seeming to fade into nothingness. As a sense of calm returns to the bank, tellers and patrons alike start to come out of hiding. The teller, still standing at what used to be the window, stares fixatedly at the glowing orb hovering a little more than a foot from her face. As curious patrons gather around, she smiles in wonder and reaches out to touch the light.

At the edge of town, the young man in the gray uniform approaches a sign reading, 'Mt. Paozu, East District." Behind him, a brilliant burst of light gives way to an explosion at the center of the city. Before he fades into dimensional space, a serrated grin flashes across his face.


	2. Chapter 2: Absolute Darkness

Polaris, Chapter 2. Goku's House, 4:51 pm.

As he approaches the clearing surrounding Goku's home, Vegeta slows down to a sprint.

"Kakarot! You better not have started without me!"

Emerging from the woods, Vegeta immediately comes to a stop. Goku stands still in front of him. Standing in the clearing next to the fire pit is a mysterious man in gray holding Chi-Chi by the neck. Vegeta's heart begins to race as his eyes scan the yard for Bulma.

"Who the hell are you?" Goku asks, fists clenched.

The mysterious man simply smiles and turns his body, holding Chi-Chi out in front of him. His grip is so tight she can barely manage to breathe. Her eyes teeter upward as her brain fights for consciousness.

Goku takes a step forward, tears welling in his eyes, and cries out, "Who are you?! Please don't hurt her! Just tell me what you want!"

Again, the young man doesn't respond, and tilts his head to the side as he takes an obvious interest in Goku's agony.

Goku takes in a deep breath, and asks once more, "Please… just let her go. I'll give you whatever you want."

The young man's smile quickly dissolves as he gives Goku a chilling reply; "This is exactly what I want." With that, his expression contorts into anger, and as Goku and Vegeta watch in helpless horror, he condenses his grip and crushes Chi-Chi's neck, tossing her aside like a broken twig.

Goku yells at the top of his lungs, bursting forward and catching Chi-Chi's body before it strikes the ground. As he holds her to him, thin streams of blood trickling from her eyes, nose and mouth, he weeps quietly. He clenches his teeth so hard his gums begin to bleed.

Vegeta, still in shock, turns to the young man and screams, "Where is my wife! Where is the other woman?!"

The man in gray just stands and smiles.

"Where is she, godd***it! Tell me now or I'll give you a f***ing reason to smile!"

The young man looks back over his shoulder, and then back at Vegeta. "Well you see, when I threw her, no one was here to catch her."

Vegeta's eyes nearly go red as he yells at the top of his lungs, "YOU BETTER BE F***ING LYING!"

With a massive jolt of energy, he shatters the ground beneath him as he jets out into the sky, searching the ground desperately for any sign of Bulma. Goku, still holding Chi-Chi's body, turns to face the man in gray.

"I don't know who you are," he says, "or exactly why you're here, but I promise you this: I will watch you die for what you've done."

He lays Chi-Chi down and removes his red dōgi, draping it over her chest and head. He looks down at her and makes a silent promise. Clenching his fist once more, he begins to draw energy inward. He glares up at the man in gray and takes in a series of stifled breaths. Just as the energy builds to the surface, he outstretches his hand in a literal instant and transmits himself behind the young man.

But as soon as he releases his blast to the man's back, his body seems to fade into nothingness. The humongous shatter blast let loose from his hand flattens every tree in its path, and scars the ground directly in front of him from the intense heat. As he darts his eyes around the ground looking for pieces of charred flesh, a whisper from behind catches him off guard.

"_Gizard Wasteland, when you're ready_..."

Quickly preparing another blast, Goku twists his body and slings his arm forward. But as he turns, his arm passes clean through the young man in gray. Time seems to slow as the figure in front of him begins to fade into an ethereal form. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end as he looks into the young man's eyes.

They seem infinitely deep, reflecting no light and showing no hue. Somewhere in the back of his head, Goku senses something tangible. Behind these empty eyes, somewhere deep inside, was the purest form of evil; uncompromising, unbridled, and undying.

As the figure fades completely, Goku stands frozen in place. Deep down, underneath all the pain and anger, something unexpected is growing inside of him: fear. As his legs grow weak beneath him, he takes a seat on the ground and stares at Chi-Chi's body. He presses his palms into his eyes, waiting to wake up in his bed, next to his wife. Drawing in a deep breath, he swallows and wipes his fingers down his face. He's startled to see Vegeta standing in front of him.

"I… I can't find her," he says panting, looking down at Goku. His fists are still clenched tight as he wipes a stray tear from his cheek.

"Where did he go?" Vegeta asks sternly. Goku looks up, but only sighs in response.

Vegeta loses his calm and leans down, grabbing Goku by his collar, demanding through clenched teeth, "Where. Did. He. Go?"

Goku shakes his head, replying, "I can't tell you. If I do, you'd go there alone."

Clearly agitated, Vegeta kneels and strikes the ground. "And WHY is that a problem? Let me smash his smug f***ing face in!"

Goku finally rises to his feet and grabs Vegeta's shirt. In a rare display of anger, he yells, "Because he'll F***ING KILL you! I lost Chi-Chi, Vegeta… I lost my wife to that piece of s**t. But he's strong…"

Vegeta pulls Goku's hands off of him and takes a step back, retorting, "And how would you know? He didn't throw a single punch. We couldn't even feel his power."

Goku swallows and locks his eyes with Vegeta's.

"I did feel it," he shutters, "I felt absolute darkness. I couldn't even sense an end to it. If we're gonna take him on, we need everyone."

With that, Goku takes in another deep breath and collapses back onto the ground.

"Everyone," he repeats to himself, shaking his head.

"As if it'll matter."


	3. Chapter 3: Affliction

Polaris, Chapter 3. Just north of Goku's House, 4:49 pm.

Panting heavily and holding her side, Bulma slowly drags herself to the trunk of a tree just a few meters away. She winces with every pull, and coughs as droplets of blood spray from her mouth. With the last of her strength, she grasps a thick notch in the bark and hoists herself up against the trunk. She releases a stuttered sigh and slowly slides her hand down her side. Relief washes over her as her fingers sprawl over the smooth rectangular cover of her communicator.

_Still in one piece_.

Her fingers, still shaking, struggle to raise the communicator to her ear. _Please answer, please answer_…

On the other end, a whispered voice crackles into coherence; "_What is it, Bulma? I'm at the library, I can't talk now_..."

"Gohan… help me… please… Chi-Chi…"

The whisper on the other end responds more forcefully: "What do you mean, Bulma? What's wrong?"

Before she can respond, Bulma's vision fades and she falls on her side.

_F**k… it must be worse than I thought_.

The communicator tumbles out of her hand and comes to rest against a protruding root. With her last conscious act, she fumbles her hand forward and depresses the large triangular button marked 'Beacon.'

As her body goes limp and eyes shut, the worried voice on the other side of the communicator begins to echo in her subconscious: "Bulma? Bulma!"

It never gets a response.

The Lookout, 5:03 pm.

Piccolo, hovering above the Lookout, meditates in his usual cross-legged posture. He releases a deep sigh, attempting to focus his concentration as the unhindered sunlight warms his hands and neck. As comforting as it was, somewhere far below he could sense something unusual.

Things had been rather routine since the defeat of Cell, but for some reason he felt uneasy. At several times during the recent afternoon, his antennae had twitched in response to some kind of anomalous energy surge. Brief as they were, lasting barely a second each, they seemed to be enormous in magnitude. But the more he tried to focus on them, the more they seemed like freak occurrences. The moment he would pinpoint a signature, any trace of power would vanish. While this was unsettling, he didn't give them too much ponderance. As it was, he hadn't sensed any large power levels that he didn't recognize. So when Goku appeared in front of him, eyes bloodshot and voice faltering, he knew his apprehensiveness was justified.

"Goku, what's wrong? What happened?" Goku takes in a deep breath and raises his eyes to Piccolo.

"We need to get everyone together."

Piccolo extends his feet beneath him and lowers to the ground. "What do you mean? What's the matter?" he asks taking a step forward.

"Goku, tell me what's wrong."

Fighting back his pain and frustration, Goku replies, "Chi-Chi's dead…"

At first, Piccolo simply stares. Through all of their battles together and through all of the many losses endured, he had never seen Goku so distraught.

"I'm so sorry, Goku… I'll find everyone I can to help find the Dra-."

"No," Goku interjects, "we can't do that yet." He narrows his eyes to keep the tears back.

Piccolo takes another step forward as his expression shifts from sorrow to concern; "And why not?"

"Because he's still out there," Goku gulps. "We can't take the risk."

Piccolo, in a rare gesture of compassion, steps closer and rests his hands on Goku's shoulders.

"Who, Goku? Who's out there?"

Goku swallows and averts his blank stare downward; "He killed Chi-Chi… snapped her neck right in front of me. Probably killed Bulma, too. Vegeta couldn't find her body."

He takes in another deep breath, "I don't know who he is, but I know two things: he's waiting for us at the Gizard Wasteland, and he's strong… very strong."

Piccolo sighs heavily as he leans back and resumes his meditation posture, arms again folded firmly at his chest. He starts to put the pieces together.

"I had a feeling. I've been sensing power bursts all afternoon. Was that him?"

"It was. He can teleport," Goku nods.

With some relief threading his tone, Piccolo smirks, "Well so can you."

"But not like him," Goku scoffs, "I've never seen a technique like that. He seemed to dissolve into nothingness."

Piccolo bows his head in concern. "Did he give us a time frame?"

Goku shakes his head, turning to stare out over the edge of the Lookout; "No. But if we don't get there soon, there's nothing stopping him from killing more innocent people." Nodding to himself, Piccolo raises his eyes back up to Goku.

"Wasn't Vegeta sparring with you earlier? Where is he?"

"He was, he'll be back soon," Goku responds, "He's taking Trunks and Goten to Kame House to stay with Krillin and 18. I'd feel better if I knew some of us would still be alive to collect the Dragon Balls."

Piccolo's signature scowl returns to his face as he replies, "You don't think we can win, do you?"

Taking in a deep breath, Goku looks back up to Piccolo: his usually-vibrant face dreary and lethargic.

"No. I don't."

En route to Kame House, 5:11 pm.

The flight seems to take forever. Vegeta doesn't say a word. Trunks can sense that something is wrong, but, as usual, his father is being avoidant. The setting sun cascades a tranquil orange glow on the ocean just short of the horizon. As they pass over the shoreline, Goten can't hold his tongue anymore.

"We only ever go to Kame House if Krillin's having a barbeque, or if something's wrong… and if dad won't be there, it can't be a barbeque…"

He looks worriedly to Vegeta, who, despite flying just a couple meters ahead of them, seems to be somewhere else entirely.

"We promise we won't say anything," Trunks chimes in.

Vegeta doesn't even blink. Looking back to Goten, Trunks shrugs and gives an exaggerated moue.

Sighing aloud, he groans, "Well will mom at least be there?"

Suddenly Vegeta sheds his flight aura and comes to an abrupt stop. Nearly colliding with him, Trunks and Goten follow suit. Floating motionless, head bowed and fists clenched at his sides, Vegeta briefly shutters his eyes.

"I suppose you boys are old enough to handle the truth," he says, staring down into the water. "But before I tell you, I want you both to promise me that you'll go and stay with Krillin and 18 regardless of what I'm about to say. Is that understood?"

He turns to Trunks and Goten, who both nod solemnly. His eyes glaze over as he forces out the words.

"Goten," he says, assuming an indifferent posture, "your mother is dead."

Vegeta can barely stomach the words, and his conscious wrenches with self-loathing as his words cut to the boy's heart. As Goten begins to cry, Trunks is quick to take him under arm and offer comfort.

"Son…" Vegeta chokes, struggling to keep his composure, "I fear your mother might also be lost."

Trunks' face goes instantly pale as his melancholy expression gives way to shock. Eyes wide and jaw dropped, he can barely manage to whimper as tears begin to flow down his cheeks.

_How dare you_, Vegeta says inwardly, _how dare you reduce him to tears._

Mustering all his strength, he reaches out and grasps his son's shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

Somewhere down below, sun-soaked waves basking in the last glows of the evening sun are rippled by three sets of tears.

Just north of Goku's House, 5:16 pm

With his eyes darting continually between the locator and the ground, Gohan begins to feel a knot grow in his stomach. He didn't even have time to tell Videl that he was leaving. As the blinking light comes to rest at the center of the locator, Gohan drops his flight aura and slows to a stop. He surveys the area for a few moments looking for any sign of Bulma before dropping down to the ground.

"D*mnit," he mutters to himself, "I wish this thing was a little more precise…"

His heart still racing, he scans the trees around him.

"She's gotta be around here somewhere..."

Turning his head to the left, he catches something out of place in the corner of his eye. There, sprawled against the trunk of a tree, was Bulma; her bright yellow blouse and skirt stained with patches of blood and stripes of pale green. Gohan rushes up to her, cradling her in his arms.

"Bulma! Bulma, say something!" She doesn't even bat an eye.

Gohan raises his fingers under her nose, searching for the telltale warmth of an exhaled breath.

"Too shallow," he says to himself.

He stares at her for a moment, weighing his options. "If she has internal injuries, too much movement could make it worse. I have no choice." He sighs, pulling a Senzu bean from his shirt pocket.

"I was hoping to save this for a fight, but…"

Pressing his thumb gently against Bulma's jaw, he holds her mouth open and grinds the Senzu bean into pieces. He shuts her mouth and massages her neck, letting the bits work their way down her throat. As a single bead of sweat meanders down his crumpled forehead, he waits.

Moments later, Bulma's chest rises violently as she takes in a strong breath. Gohan smiles in relief as Bulma's eyes squint open.

"How are you feeling?" he says warmly.

But no sooner does she recognize him then her face contorts into a grimace. She pulls him to her and begins to weep against his shoulder. Gohan confusedly wraps his arms around her and tries his best to comfort her.

"Hey, hey… it'll be alright. What happened? Where's mom?"

She looks up, eyes red and tearful; "I'm so sorry Gohan… she's dead."

Gohan's eyes glaze over as he gently releases Bulma and falls backward, reclining in the grass. Patches of orange sunlight thread his back through the trees behind him. Bulma leans forward reaching out for his arm, but he jerks away. The sorrow in his eyes gives way to anger as he buries his fingers into the soil.

"How?" he blurts.

Bulma shakes her head and again reaches for his arm.

Gohan jumps to his feet; "How?!" he yells.

Bulma lowers her head and swallows. "He killed her," she mutters. "He said I wouldn't have to watch… so he threw me… like I was a f*cking rock."

"Who killed her?" Gohan pleads, kneeling back down in front of her.

As she forces her eyes closed visualizing the young man's face, she raises her head to respond, but no words come out. Instead, her mouth gapes and her face pales. Gohan searches her eyes, and, following her stare, turns to look over his shoulder.

Standing in the clearing, head askew and adorned with a smug smirk, is a young man in a gray uniform.


	4. Chapter 4: The Beginning of the End

Polaris, Chapter 4. Kame House, 5:19 pm.

Vegeta, Trunks and Goten touch down onto the soft sand in front of Kame House. Krillin, having sensed the incoming power signatures, was already outside grinning widely.

"Hey guys! If I knew you were coming, I would have cleaned up a bit. 18 and I have been, uhh… wrestling around the house."

Krillin tries his best to hold a poker face as Vegeta, his expression purposely vacant, walks toward him.

"Didn't think you'd buy that," Krillin chuckles. "What brings you guys here? Lemme guess… Goku ate you all out of house and home."

Krillin's smirk withers as Vegeta turns him aside and leans in close; "I wish that were the case," he sighs, a deep sadness tingeing his tone. "There's been an attack. Chi-Chi and… and my wife… are dead." He swallows, momentarily averting his gaze as his eyes well up.

Krillin's face teeters between anger and agony. "How? Who's responsible?" he asks, subconsciously striking his fist to his palm.

Vegeta simply shakes his head, leaning back up and turning towards Trunks and Goten; their faces showing the kind of bewilderment indicative of lost innocence.

"You two; come here," Vegeta calls out. The boys gloomily step forward, their feet dragging in the sand. "You'll be staying here with Krillin and 18, is that understood?"

Before they can nod in affirmation, Krillin yanks at Vegeta's shirt and pulls him back in.

"What do you think you're doing? I'm not babysitting; I'm going out there with you guys!"

Vegeta shrugs off Krillin's grasp and replies, "No you're not. Goku wants you here with the boys."

"To hell with what he wants!" Krillin snaps back. Vegeta, taken off guard, leans back slightly and scoffs.

"I know he's in a rough place right now. I don't even want to think about what I'd do if I lost 18… but I've known Chi-Chi and Bulma most of my life, and I've been Goku's best friend since we were kids. There's _no way_ I'm letting him face this on his own."

Maintaining his glare, Krillin calls inside to 18.

As she opens the door and leans outside, wearing only a robe, Krillin turns to her and says, "Give Roshi a call and have him come here to watch the boys."

18 looks to her right and smiles mildly at Trunks and Goten. They don't even look up at her.

"You know that lazy old bastard won't leave his house to babysit," she sneers.

"Then tell him we're making dinner or something," Krillin replies, shrugging his shoulders.

18 shakes her head; "He won't fall for that one again." Sighing in agitation, Krillin turns and eyes her pensively.

He cracks a smile; "Well then just tell him you're making dinner in your bikini." 18 rolls her eyes and heads back inside. "If there's one thing that old fart will never say no to, it's tits," he adds with a chuckle.

Turning back to Vegeta with renewed seriousness, he asks, "Where's everyone at?"

Vegeta takes in a deep breath, replying, "They're at the lookout. Kakarot is fetching the Namek and Gohan, and we're to meet at the northern outskirts of Central City." Krillin nods to himself.

"Are you bringing 18?" Vegeta inquires.

Looking back up to him, Krillin ripostes, "I'm not _bringing_ her. She comes and goes as she pleases."

Laughing aloud, somewhat in spite of himself, Vegeta retorts, "I'm guessing she goes more than she comes." Krillin simply frowns.

As if on cue, 18 reemerges from the house, this time wearing her usual attire.

"Roshi's on his way. When are we leaving?" Vegeta and Krillin stare at her perplexingly. "You whisper very loudly," she adds, brushing her hair away from her smirk.

Vegeta turns back to Trunks and Goten; "You're to stay here and wait for the old man. Understood?"

They both nod, still weary from grief. As they head inside, 18 crouches in front of them, holding them each by the shoulder; "Cheer up, guys," she says with a warm smile, "As long as we have the Dragon Balls, they'll never be more than a wish away." She gently rests her hands against their respective cheeks. "C'mon, gimme a smile," she adds. Trunks and Goten each manage to force a faint grin. "Knew you could do it," she beams, standing up and urging them inside.

Vegeta leans in towards Krillin; "She'll be a good mother."

Krillin smirks; "She better be. She takes care of me all day."

Vegeta chuckles softly, and as 18 closes the door behind her, they all generate energy auras and jet away into the dusk sky.

Just north of Goku's House, 5:18 pm.

Gohan and the mysterious man in gray stare icily at one another. No words are exchanged. Only the sound of leaves rustling in the gentle breeze of the oncoming night breaks the ghostly calm. Gohan deftly begins to raise his power as a thin, almost wisp-like energy wave flattens the grass concentrically around him.

"Who are you?" Gohan inquires sternly.

The man in gray cocks his head. "Why are you raising your energy signature if you don't know who I am?" he smirks.

"Cut the sh*t!" Gohan yells, "I know what you did; I'm asking who you are and why you did this. What gives you the right to attack innocent people?"

The young man simply grunts and cracks his neck to either side.

"Have it your way," Gohan snarls, adorning a smirk of his own. "You'll answer for what you did, one way or another."

With that, Gohan bends his knees and raises his fists to shoulder height, releasing a shattering war cry as the ground ripples beneath him. Trees in all directions begin to bow outward as Gohan's hair flashes to gold and his eyes fade to a bright blue. The weak energy aura he was projecting condenses into a golden conflagration that swirls around him.

In the wake of this massive energy boost, the man in gray takes a cautious step backward. Before he can adjust his balance, Gohan leaps forward shattering the ground beneath him. The man in gray barely has time to flinch before Gohan's fist plows into his cheek. With a deafening crack, the young man is propelled at break-neck speed into the forest behind him, tearing a line of grass right out of the soil as he passes.

But just as Gohan begins to crack a smile, he feels a sharp and swelling pain in his back. The full force of an unhindered elbow, laced with an immense amount of energy, smashes into his spine, sending him careening into the same direction he sent the man in gray. As his body is flung through tree after tree, Gohan can feel a strange tingling in the lower half of his body. Losing speed, he begins to skid against the ground, smashing into a low-lying rock and tumbling over against a tree.

With his head still spinning, he begins to feel a warm stream of blood flow down his chin. He pushes on the ground trying to raise himself to his feet, but something is wrong. His legs aren't responding to his thoughts. Starting to panic, he tries wiggling his toes. Nothing. He leans his head back against the tree and closes his eyes.

_F*ck. Knew I should have saved that Senzu bean…_

As he opens them again, he is alarmed to see the man in the gray uniform standing just a meter or so in front of him.

"Relax," the young man says, "no need to die excited."

Gohan raises his arm to blast him, but the man in gray phases directly in front of him in a crouched position, holding his arm. Gohan grimaces as the man in the gray uniform clenches down tight and cocks his head in amusement.

"Who… are you?" Gohan sputters.

The young man smiles, replying, "Who I am is unimportant. Where I'm _from_ is vital." Gohan swallows, feeling his breaths grow shorter.

"Then where are you from? Why are you doing this?" With a vague look resembling satisfaction, the man in the gray uniform takes in a deep breath and rests on one knee.

"I suppose I'll start from the middle," he says, resting his free hand on his leg. "A little over seven months ago, my planet was attacked. Not by an invader, or by an army, but by something indefensible; by something archaic and unaccountable.

"It was about mid-morning- or our planetary equivalent- when it happened. Our civilization is remarkably advanced, technologically speaking, but we still believe in the systematic cultivation of plant food. It was the farmers who first noticed a small shift in the shadows of their crops. At first they ignored it, assuming it was simply a solar flare—something common on our world. But as the moments passed, people started to feel unusual warmth, like the home star had begun to shed a portion of its corona. This was rather alarming, but since our world had a magnetic barrier to protect against excessive solar activity, people continued about their work. It wasn't until the sky began to glow yellow that people panicked. The autodefense network in high orbit hadn't activated, so the War Commission was just as unprepared as the rest of us. In an instant, a massive stream of golden energy poured through the atmosphere and struck the planet."

Gohan, feigning interest, relaxes his arm, allowing the man in gray to loosen his grip. "What was it?" he asks as his hair fades back to its natural black color.

"Nobody knew at the time," the young man responds. "But everyone felt it, regardless of where they were. I was on the other side of the planet. It felt like the world was being shaken from the inside. For a brief moment, the gravity tripled, buckling weak structures and crushing millions. The immediate effects were more apparent on the side of impact. One eighth of the planet, or about 40% of the livable surface, was vaporized along with nearly a billion and a half of my people. The shockwave it produced rippled across the planet with such force that any above-ground structure was flattened and torn away. The heat it brought glassed most of the planet, reducing a billion more people to molten ash. Since most of our permanent structures were underground to save space, a decent portion of our race was still alive. But this wasn't to last."

Gohan focuses his thoughts and begins to slowly build power in his left arm.

"After only a few minutes," the young man continues, "the planet core became compromised, sending seismic and thermal activity into complete chaos. As magma swelled to the surface, millions more were lost as their underground dwellings were engulfed in molten rock. As things steadily got worse, a planet-wide memorandum was sent to every survivor.

"Every being still alive saw the last desperate message The Collective—our government- would ever send. It read, 'Abandon. Abandon.' In what seemed like a dream, hundreds of thousands of pods burst from the interior of the planet. I was in one of the lucky ones. Just as our onboard navigation plotted a course to the nearest hospitable location, the planet burst. The light was the most intense thing I had ever seen. It was so beautiful… light of every color jetting from the core as its magnetic and gravitational auras dissipated. I wouldn't have smiled if I knew just how much we'd lost.

"It wasn't until we arrived at a planetary outpost that we knew the true magnitude of the crisis. Of a civilization of more than four billion, only a few hundred had survived. It was all so sudden that when we finally started putting the pieces together, we realized that what happened to us was not an accident."

Having gathered a substantial amount of energy, Gohan sat in wait for his opportunity.

"After gathering what was left of our intellectuals and scientists," the man in gray says, taking in a slight breath, "we formed an investigative group to find out what had happened. Using a handful of technical equipment salvaged from a research vessel, the group found that our planet was struck with an enormous beam of concentrated energy. Using some clever telemetry, we traced where—and when- the beam originated. As the group addressed what was left of our population, we couldn't believe what we were hearing.

"Apparently, on a planet over a thousand light years away, something had emitted a massive beam of energy into space. It traveled for a millennium, losing so little energy on its journey that it was still just as potent as when it was created. It must have been sheathed by some type of magnetic field, which is why it was only bright after passing through the magnetic barrier. Because of this, our scientists decided that this energy came from within a planetary atmosphere. We were attacked... or so we thought.

"After combing through millennia of galaxy-wide historical and astronomical records, we found the source of the attack. At the edge of the galaxy, in a cluster of space dust, we found the origin signature of the blast. But there was no planet. Not even a moon. For about a week the investigation stalled, until one scientist found something intriguing.

"While searching the area for magnetic residuals, he found a massive trace of energy, followed by an even larger pulse, and then nothing; as if it completely disappeared. He fit the pieces together and concluded, using some impressive mathematics, that the same phenomenon which had destroyed our planet had also destroyed itself."

At this, Gohan's mind jumped. Something clicked in his memory that made him lose focus. _"It can't be…"_ he thinks to himself.

"Is this starting to sound familiar?" the man in gray taunts. "It should, because this is the part of the story that concerns why I'm here. The thing that destroyed our world… the abomination that nearly drove us to extinction was one of you. It was a Saiyan."

Gohan swallows, looking into the man's eyes; "I'm sorry. I really am. Something similar happened to our race about forty years ago. But that doesn't give you the right to come here and hurt innocent people. We had nothing to do with what happened to you!"

In a sudden burst of anger, the man in gray plows his fist into the ground, causing Gohan to flinch.

"Nothing to do with it?! You had _everything_ to do with it! You're the continuation of a massive genetic mistake that _should_ have corrected itself. You _knew_ what you were capable of, and still you spread your filth across the galaxy, destroying world after world. What happened to my civilization may have been random, but it was NOT a mistake." The young man, regaining his composure, pulls his fist from the dirt and takes in another deep breath.

"I'm here to correct that mistake. And unlike that pushover Frieza, I _won't_ fail."

Releasing Gohan's arm, the man in gray instead grasps his throat, raising him up the tree as he stands. Gohan's feet sway beneath him, and as his full weight pulls on his severed spine, he groans in agony.

"I want you to know what's going to destroy you," the young man says, tightening his grip. "I want you to know that a soldier from Polaris was the cause of your extinction."

In his last desperate act, Gohan jets his arm forward ready to release his blast. But to his horror, the man in the gray uniform preempts his attack and grabs his wrist, snapping it like a twig. Gohan, overcome with pain, yells out at the top of his lungs.

"And now," the young man says, raising two fingers to Gohan's forehead, "you know but a fraction of the pain I've endured."

As his fingers begin to emit a faint white glow, the young man frowns. His eyes achromatize and seem to pierce into Gohan's mind. All Gohan can do is gape as an immeasurable fear permeates his entire being.

"I bestow upon you now the mercy that every surviving Polarian was spared; the mercy of death."

With surprising ease, the man from Polaris presses his fingers into Gohan's forehead. The sound of sizzling flesh gives way to Gohan's final exhalation as vaporized blood rises from the wound. Gohan's eyes roll into his head as his jaw goes lax, free from motor control. The man in gray pulls his fingers from Gohan's forehead and lets his body drop in a heap on the ground in front of him. As he stares down at the corpse, he holds his head askew and chuckles aloud.

Reaching down to Gohan's body, he takes the communicator from his pocket. Stepping backward, he depresses the large side switch labeled 'Video' and sets the communicator against a jutting root, facing the camera towards Gohan's lifeless form. Just before fading into ethereal space, he hears a piercing scream emanate from the clearing behind him.

A malevolent grin stretches across his face; a grin made all the more disturbing by the emptiness of the eyes above it.

_"This is the beginning…"_ he says to himself. _"The beginning of the end."_


	5. Chapter 5: Echoes

[For reference; pronunciation of names to follow: Zempheda = Zem-FAY-duh. Drozul = DRAH-zull. Diala = Dee-AH-la.]

Polaris, Chapter 5. Polaris Prime, Cycle 3851 (Earth Age 773). 44 Earth minutes past Solar Zenith.

A young man of sinewy form sits reclined in an oblong foam-like chair, staring out the window with arms folded behind his head. Soft ivory sunlight pours through the panoramic window and cascades up to his shoulders, just shy of his chin. He takes in slow unperturbed breaths, gazing out over the sprawling cityscape with a pastoral semblance. The sleek rounded towers stretching towards the horizon seem to glow in the midday effulgence. His eyes begin to close as a deep calm settles inside him.

No sooner does he take in the first deep breath of what was to be a long nap than two slender arms come to rest around his neck.

"Not so fast, you…"

A smile stretches across his face as he turns to face the tender soprano voice whispering just over his shoulder.

"You should be at the Forum," he yawns, pulling her close with outstretched arms.

She smiles and presses her lips to his; "And you should be at the War Council." Tilting her head seductively, she sprawls her hand down his core and past his waist. "But I suppose that can wait…" As she comes around to straddle him, he gestures towards the window causing the shades to fall.

"Mm, I love being late," he says, grabbing the hem of her shirt and lifting it over her head. She smiles down at him, her eyes glinting in the last rays of light sneaking under the descending shades.

Staring back, his heart seems to float as he takes in an intoxicating breath.

"_I wonder if she knows."_

The War Council, 71 Earth minutes past Solar Zenith.

The young man strolls through the vaulted entrance of the War Council Nexus. Still wearing a faint smile, he adjusts the bronze bracelets on each wrist. His matte gray hex uniform mirrors the crimson ceiling above. He slows his pace as he approaches the ornate black door to the Nexus Tactical Seminary. Taking muffled steps into the semi-circular hall, he's stopped in his tracks by a thunderous voice from the front of the room.

"Zempheda; your rank does not permit you to come and go as you please."

The young man immediately stands up straight and turns to attention; "Yes sir. It won't happen again sir."

The scowling man in black at the front of the hall nods and continues his lecture. Zempheda makes his way to his seat and plops into his chair with a sigh.

"Way to go, Legionnaire Libido. You've managed to f*ck your way out of another monthly merit."

Zempheda turns to his left to see his fellow Tribune, Drozul, smirking at his own remark.

"Yeah, well at least I don't have to use an impulse device," he retorts, jabbing Drozul in the arm.

Leaning back in his chair, Drozul scans the classroom with his piercing blue eyes. "Did you notice that the Prefects aren't here?"

Zempheda peers over the Centurions in front of him and eyes the empty row of chairs near the Imperator's podium. "That is strange," he says aloud. "Did they say anything about it the last seminar?"

Drozul shakes his head; his trimmed black hair shimmering under the pale lights of the Seminary hall. "Not a word," he replies. "I know someone in Astronomics; maybe they know what's going on."

As Zempheda stares forward faking a look of interest, Drozul rotates the bracelet on his left wrist, activating a small holographic panel on the inside of his forearm. He types through the translucent keypad, initiating a direct text comm with his source in Astronomics.

Zempheda glances over on occasion but can't make out any of the words scrolling across the panel; "What did they say?" Drozul grunts to himself, rotating his bracelet back around and dissipating the holographic display.

"Well," he replies concernedly, "they're apparently off-world shepherding a research group to some energetic anomaly in the epsilon sector."

Zempheda tries hard to smother a laugh, blurting, "Of course those decrepit old bastards are off babysitting." Drozul snickers aloud, and to both their dismay, the Imperator turns his icy stare towards them.

"Are you two finished?" he bellows.

"Yes sir, sorry sir," they reply in unison.

The Imperator sighs heavily, shaking his head; "Do you two take anything seriously?"

Just as he turns to continue his lecture, a loud chime echoes through the Nexus. Lifting his notes, the Imperator straightens them against the podium, yelling, "Dismissed!"

As each row departs according to rank, he glares back up to Zempheda. "Except for you," he adds. Zempheda nods sullenly as Drozul passes behind him, slapping him on the back.

"Tough break; I'll keep Diala company while you get pummeled," Drozul smirks as Zempheda turns to glower at him.

Taking in an apprehensive breath, he makes his way towards the front of the class. The Imperator swipes his hand across the podium, powering down the hologram projector on the wall behind him.

"You were late again," he says, taking a seat at a nearby desk.

"It won't happen again, sir," Zempheda replies, standing at ease in front of him.

The Imperator chuckles to himself; "That's what you said the last time. Now don't think I don't know what you're doing when you come in late like that." Zempheda tries his hardest not to blush.

"I was young once, too," the Imperator continues. "But you consistently put your personal life in front of your duties as a Tribune. The Centurions, the Signifiers, the Discens; they all look up to you. You're one of the brightest, most skilled Tribunes this Seminary has ever seen. Your Batteries have been consistently in the top percentile and your Combat Trials have been nothing short of flawless. So what is it? Why don't you give a damn? You could be Legate or even Magistrate in a few years if you just applied yourself." The Imperator shakes his head; "I mean; when are you going to start putting Polaris first?"

Zempheda lowers his head and cracks a subtle frown. He has no answer.

Earth. Age 774, April 28, north of Goku's House, 5:27 pm.

Bulma, still weeping, takes a capsule from her pocket. Tears stream down her face as she whimpers aloud with each listing step forward. Behind her, she drags Gohan's lifeless body, careful to avoid roots and stones strewn about the forest floor.

As she comes to a clearing, she tosses the capsule into the open as a VTOL plane self-assembles from a cloud of mechanical dust. Half grunting, half crying, she lifts Gohan from under the shoulders and drags him backwards into the VTOL bay door. Laying him gently between the rear seats, she drags her feet to the cockpit and sits in the pilot's chair. Wiping away the last of her tears, she draws in a deep breath and shuts her eyes.

_Why? What could drive someone to be so cruel?_

Polaris Prime, Cycle 3851. The Agorum, 103 minutes past Solar Zenith.

The Agorum seems more lively than usual. The towering ceiling of the massive, two-hundred square mile underground market echoes with the chattering of thousands of merchants and buyers; each one of them as vibrant as the artificial sunlight pouring from the massive hologram panels above.

Zempheda sighs in relief as he makes his way to the narrow alley leading to his Reeve post. The blue plasmatic portal ripples as he passes through, and he drops into his monitor chair as a small white cup composes itself from the table surface in front of him. He rotates his bracelet, activating a holographic panel that hovers just above the table. Lifting the cup to his mouth, he begins robotically sweeping through hologram feeds. His mind drones off and he begins to inwardly recite civil data and doctrine…

_As large as Polaris Prime's population was, crime was extremely rare. Starting in the second era, a series of social and political reforms were passed allowing for a planet-wide congregation of scientific thought. This cooperation eventually birthed technology that would create inexhaustible energy, allowing for a limitless supply of food and synthesized chemical elements. Radical technologies, such as antigravity circuits and extradimensional hex suits (typically reserved for military and industrial use), were soon to follow. _

_Despite these advancements, people inexorably began stealing what they wanted in lieu of what they needed. Having long since dismantled the Polarian Security Command— a government-run policing agency— The Collective bestowed the responsibility of civil order and safety on the War Council. Only the highest ranking members of the Council, known as Immunes, were free from Reeve duty._

Tilting his head back, Zempheda downs the last of his beverage and sets the cup back on the table. A small metallic ring illuminates on the outside of the cup as liquid propagates on the inside. Almost as if by habit, he raises the cup back up to his lips. But just as he's about to take a drink, his left bracelet self-rotates and displays a holographic message from the War Council Command.

He hovers the drink in front of his mouth as he reads the message to himself; _"Possible solar exorbitance. Sectors delta prime, epsilon prime, and zeta prime are to remain on moderate alert until further notice."_

Zempheda shrugs and pours the drink into his mouth. "Not my sector," he remarks aloud.

After a couple more minutes of scrolling through hologram feeds, his bracelet rotates again. Rolling his eyes, he glares back down to see a personal message from Drozul.

_"Did you hear? Council Command lost contact with the Prefects. No comms for over an hour. Do I smell a promotion?!"_ Zempheda laughs to himself as he rotates his bracelet back around, taking another sip.

No sooner does he replace the cup on the table than the hologram feed begins to flash sporadically. Raising his hand and focusing his energy, he attempts to stabilize the hologram. Despite his efforts, it dissipates. Sighing in confoundment, he leans forward and examines the projection bar at the back of the table. As he reaches forward to take off the protective panel, the lights in the room flicker and go dark. He can hear muffled exclamations of disappointment and surprise through the walls as he gets up and walks to the faint light of the portal.

As he passes through, he sees only the soft glow of fluorescent trees lighting the Agorum floor. He walks cautiously towards the main thoroughfare of the market, comforting citizens as he passes and urging them to find shelter indoors. Approaching a large group of merchants and customers huddled under a large fluorescent tree, he forms a wreath of glowing energy around his hand.

"I need everyone to remain calm," he says firmly. "Please get up and slowly and carefully make your way to the nearest indoor area."

Their nervous chatter subsides as they begin to funnel outward towards the edges of the thoroughfare. Turning to make his way to the next tree, he freezes as he feels the ground begin to tremble beneath his feet. A chorus of screams and yells fill the Agorum as the trembling gives way to a massive gravitational shift.

As if the entire planet were tilted on its side, the entire market—its patrons, its merchants, the huts, tables, goods and all other loose objects— is thrust sideways into the air. Zempheda, typically quick to act, can do nothing but gasp as he leaves the ground and is thrown several meters down the Agorum floor. Moments later, the overwhelming crash of thousands of tons of debris falling back to the ground resonates through the Agorum, deafening everyone in the market.

Struggling to his feet and coughing, Zempheda tries to wave the haze of dust out of his face. A steady torrent of screams rises above the dull groans of strained architecture and settling wreckage. Just as he begins to instruct civilians to nearby shelters, he can hear the chiming of every nearby bracelet comm rise above the chaotic static. The display seems so bright in the clouded darkness.

The message comes directly from the Lambda Prime Magistrate; _"Directive Red. All sectors on maximum alert. Initiate Guardian Protocol." _

His eyes glaze over as his thoughts begin to race.

_Guardian Protocol… I have to find her…_

A second chiming from his bracelet brings him back to reality.

_"Hey, are you alright? What the f*ck just happened?"_

It was Drozul. Quickly typing a cursory response, Zempheda is startled by a hand on his shoulder.

"I thought that was you, Tribune," the Imperator bellows.

Zempheda turns to look at him in the faint light of his bracelet comm and can see blood streaming down his bald head.

"Sir, are you alright?"

The Imperator pulls Zempheda to his feet and chortles, "I'm old; not a weakling. And you look like you're in one piece."

Brushing the dust from his uniform, he nods. "Sir, are we really carrying out the Guardian Protocol? What happened?"

Shaking his head and scanning the area, the Imperator replies, "I have no idea. We've lost comms with sectors Delta through Zeta, and Rho through Tau. We started to get reports of a massive planetoid collision, but those reports have been unsubstantiated thus far. For now, we need to start getting civilians to staging areas." Wiping the blood away from his face, he looks down at his bracelet comm. "I'll send out a memorandum for all Legionnaires to stage at the main port. So far as the War Council is concerned, we're executing the Exodus Protocol."

Zempheda looks up from his bracelet and stares at the Imperator. His heart stops as the words sink into his mind.

_That can only mean one thing…_

"Sir," he swallows, "I have a request."

"Spit it out, Tribune," the Imperator belts, still typing on his comm.

"Sir… I need to find her."

The Imperator looks up from his comm and locks eyes with Zempheda. "You know," he says sighing, "I lecture you all the time about putting your personal life before Polaris. I expected that this, of all situations, would bring you to your senses. But if she really means that much to you, I won't stop you from finding her."

Zempheda beams as he rotates his right bracelet, engaging the extradimensional circuitry built into his suit.

"But Tribune," the Imperator adds, "if you do go, you will forfeit all rights as a member of the War Council. You will be discharged and treated as a civilian for all intents and purposes. Is that understood?"

Taking a brief pause, Zempheda gives a solemn nod and begins to unlatch his bracelets. The Imperator leans in and grabs his arm; "Zempheda… you can keep the uniform. You'll need it."

Smiling in gratitude, Zempheda steps back and visualizes the Forum. As he starts to fade into dimensional space, the Imperator flashes an informal salute.

"Good luck," he says, rotating his own bracelet.

"You'll need it."

Earth. Age 774, April 28, north of Central City, 5:34 pm.

Goku paces back and forth at the edge of a ridge overlooking the city. He keeps a steady gaze over the city as the sky above reflects varying shades of orange and red on the landscape below. Piccolo, reclined in his typical meditation posture, perks up as three energy signatures approach rapidly from the south.

"They're here," he says, lowering his feet to the ground and stepping next to Goku.

"What do you mean, 'they'?" Goku responds, perplexed.

Moments later, Vegeta Krillin and 18 shed their flight auras and drop to the ground behind Goku and Piccolo.

Goku turns and walks towards Krillin; "What are you doing here? Didn't Vegeta tell you to watch the boys?"

Krillin, ever the conciliator, walks forward to Goku, replying, "Well yeah… but we sent Roshi over there. I figured you could use all the help you could get. Besides," he adds, "I heard what happened to Chi-Chi… and I'd be damned if I let you take that monster on without me."

With his initial anger subsiding, Goku takes in a deep breath and cracks his signature smile; "Well… I'm glad you're here. I wish we could have caught up under happier circumstances, but I guess this is better than nothing."

Vegeta, having glanced around, turns to Goku. "Kakarot, where's Gohan?"

Goku's smile fades as he looks up to Vegeta, replying, "I don't know. I can't sense his power level, so I assume he's still studying somewhere."

Piccolo, stepping forward from behind Goku, shakes his head; "I don't think so… I've been scanning the planet for his power signature, and I can't find it anywhere."

"What do you mean?" Goku asks worriedly. "Why can't you sense it?"

Before Piccolo can muster the courage to respond, Vegeta bursts into the air.

18, startled by the sudden jolt of energy, yells up to him; "Vegeta, where are you going?"

He simply hovers in the air, an uncharacteristic smile draped over his face. As they all stare confusedly at him, Piccolo turns to follow his gaze. Just over the city, a familiar yellow VTOL sputters towards them. Vegeta, wiping the tears welling in his eyes, waits for the plane to pass overhead before jetting after it. The rest of the group takes off and follows after.

As the plane descends to the ground on autopilot, Bulma unbuckles her belt and turns towards the bay door. Her excitement at seeing Vegeta quickly dissolves as she lays eyes on Gohan's body.

_What do I even say?_

Her inner monologue is interrupted by an anxious knock on the door. She flips the switch to her left and kneels down, cradling Gohan in her arms as the door slowly drops to the ground. Just as the ramp touches down, Vegeta leaps inside, ready to embrace the woman he thought he'd lost.

But his smile instantly collapses as his eyes settle on Gohan's corpse. He looks up to Bulma; her eyes exhausted from sorrow and holding back tears. Vegeta swallows, taking a few somber steps next to Bulma and kneeling beside her. As the other Z-Fighters touch down at the rear of the plane, their smiles fade one by one. Goku is the last to land, and he's met by a volley of mournful stares. As he steps forward, his heart comes to a stop and his body goes numb. Without a single word or exclamation he drops to the ground and takes a seat in the grass, staring vacantly forward. Krillin reaches down and rests his hand on Goku's shoulder.

Of all the injuries and losses he'd ever sustained, Goku always remained hopeful. For the first time in his life, that hope was gone.


	6. Chapter 6: Wasteland

Polaris, Chapter 6. North City, 5:41 pm.

Zempheda stands at the crest of a towering mountain peak overlooking North City. The sound of the bustling city below kindles a reminiscent calm somewhere in the cold void of his heart. With his telescopic vision, he curiously examines the streets below.

Cars of all colors and sizes pace along the shop-clogged streets as pedestrians and cyclists alike weave in and out between them. Shop owners and merchants shout amiable advertisements to passersby, as a multitude of domesticated creatures follow close behind, struggling in vain to snatch scraps from the vendor carts. Children, some holding buoyant colorful orbs held fast with string, laugh and play as they meander through groups of adults. At the edge of the city, a dull chime marks the departure of a commuter train.

Inhaling the fresh mountain air, Zempheda holds it in and raises his hand; fingers sprawled, his palm facing towards the center of the city. He gathers white energy in the size of a bowling ball in front of his hand and waits for it to emanate a high-pitched whine. Threads of black electricity start to cascade around the orb as Zempheda slowly curls his fingers inward, condensing the ball down to the size of a golf ball and causing the electrical discharge to form a semi-transparent sphere around it. He swallows, adjusting his stance as he prepares to hurl the ball into the city.

But as the seconds pass, he remains still.

_Why? Why can't I do it?_

Gritting his teeth, his hand begins to shake. He opens his mouth and begins to yell in rage as he forces his eyes shut.

**_Why?!_**

With a thunderous cry, he quickly snaps his arm to the right and launches the ball forward.

As the air whips and recovers from the crack of the sound barrier, the ball is hurled into a cluster of mountains a couple kilometers east of the city. In a blinding flash of pure white light, a colossal dome of discharged energy consumes nearly four square kilometers of mountain terrain. The massive globule begins to emit a deep resonating pulse as a shockwave ripples over the mountain tops and speeds towards the city.

Zempheda looks on as every east-facing window is shattered from the force of the wave, sending shards showering towards the streets below. Pedestrians and weak structures are thrown to the ground as a plethora of car alarms and screams rise above the echoes of shattering glass.

Looking back to his right, Zempheda can see the dome dissipate, leaving an auburn haze lingering in its wake. The ground below has been carved hollow; a perfectly smooth spherical crater nearly two kilometers wide sits where mountains once resided.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Zempheda struggles to come to terms with his perceived failure.

_They trusted me. They're depending on me… and I let them down… I let her down… right?_

Taking a stuttered step back, he lowers his eyes and clenches his fists. The hatred he's been pouring into his righteous vengeance begins to spill over, and blurs his vision. He falls to his hands and knees and strikes the ground, lifting a cloud of dust around him as the rock shatters. Tears begin to stream down his cheeks as his face contorts into a furious grimace.

_This is what you want, isn't it? __**Isn't it?!**_

He growls and seethes through clenched teeth. As his rage builds, the air begins to swirl and darken around him. Just as his energy builds to a critical point, he instantly fades into dimensional space, leaving a vortex of charged energy behind.

Somewhere in the Gizard Wasteland, a deafening blast surges through the labyrinthine canyons.

North of Central City, 5:39 pm.

The Z-Fighters stand silently around the grounded VTOL. Goku, still seated in the grass, takes in shallow, sluggish breaths. Krillin walks forward, kneeling in front of him.

"Hey buddy… I'm sorry. I know this is tough," he says, cocking his head lower to make eye contact, "but we're all here for you. You've pulled us through some really tough times, and you were always the one to pick up our spirits. When everyone else lost hope, you were there to show us that there's always a way. You're gonna pull through this, and we're gonna make sure this son of a b*tch pays for what he did."

Goku gives a slight nod, starting to drift back into reality.

Krillin stands up and extends his arm forward; "C'mon, Goku, we need you. The sooner he's dead and gone, the sooner we can wish Gohan and Chi-Chi back. And hey, when it's all over, barbecue at my place, okay?"

18 rolls her eyes, knowing full well who'll have to do the cooking.

Krillin smiles warmly at Goku; "Whaddya say, buddy?"

Taking in a deep breath, Goku perks his head up and takes Krillin's hand. "You had me at 'barbeque'," he smirks. The group takes in a collective sigh of relief as Goku seems to return to his normal, confident self.

Vegeta, stealing a final kiss from Bulma, stands up and steps out of the VTOL; "So where is he? You're ready to go, so let's have it." Goku hesitates, eyeing the setting sun on the horizon. "It's now or never, Kakarot," Vegeta adds, tightening his gloves against his fingers. "This buffoon was foolish enough to come here and attack us—to spill Saiyan blood. It's time he pays for his mistake."

Scanning the group, Goku replies jokingly, "Is everyone okay with fighting in the dark?"

As an uneasy laughter lifts from the group, Vegeta expressly clears his throat; "Have you forgotten our first battle, Kakarot? Darkness won't be a problem." Vegeta holds his finger skyward and generates a small-scale Power Ball. "If I overpower it," he says, admiring his own creation, "I can make it bright enough to simulate the light of a full moon."

The Z-Fighters nod in approval as Goku, taking an assertive step forward, addresses the group: "Then we should get moving. He's waiting for us at the Gizard Wasteland."

Vegeta chuckles to himself, entertained at the coincidence. But before any of them can raise their flight auras, an immense energy surge flares everyone's ki sense. Turning simultaneously, the Z-Fighters all see an unnatural white glow lighting up the horizon to the northeast.

"Wait…" Krillin mutters aloud, "Isn't that North City?"

Deftly raising their power levels in preparation for combat, the Z-Fighters jet towards the horizon without hesitation.

Polaris Prime, Cycle 3851. The Forum, 116 minutes past Solar Zenith.

As he phases into the vaulted main chamber of the Forum, Zempheda is overcome with the stench of blood. His eyes, adjusting to the brightness of the above-ground facility, go wide to the horrific sight in front of him.

Dozens of bodies, crushed by the fallen ornamental pillars that had lined the main hall, lay soaking in a rippling pool of blood and bodily effluence. He instantly feels sick to his stomach. The moans and whines of the few survivors send shivers down his spine. Taking a few careful steps forward, he locks eyes with a young man of similar age half-crushed under a pillar. The man's face, spattered with blood and streaming with tears, shakes mildly as adrenaline continues to pump through what's left of his body.

Swallowing, Zempheda raises a finger to the young man and gives an empathetic nod. Shortly before having a concentrated beam of energy pierce his brain, the young man flashes the faintest smile.

_What kind of nightmare is this?_

Against every inclination as a man of honor, Zempheda takes to the air and flies over the multitudes of dying, each crying out to him as he passes overhead.

As he comes to the stairs leading to the Forum Archive, he turns back to the writhing mass of partial corpses. Outstretching his hand, he generates a small energy ball laced with a substantial amount of electricity. He flings the ball out towards the center of the room. Turning to enter the embellished doorway to the Archive, he can hear the sizzle of the ball discharging against the sprawling pool of blood. The chamber falls silent.

The towering tapestries that line the walls of the Archive still pendulum gently from the gravitational shift. Flying over fallen debris and the dying and the dead, Zempheda negotiates the few stacks of holographic data nexuses still standing as he approaches the final door to the Archive understructure.

_Please… let her be there…_

Settling to the dust-covered carpet, he rotates the orb lock at the center of the door and forcefully swings it open. The powerful draft lifts up a wispy layer of dust, giving an eerie glow to the self-contained plasma globes floating to either side. As he descends the narrow stairwell he can hear faint voices chatting worriedly below. Bursting around the corner, his heart skips a beat.

Diala, cradling her injured coworker, stares back with auroral blue eyes. Her shoulder-length blonde hair looks frayed from stress, and several small streaks of blood tinge her fair skin. Her slender form seems diminutive in comparison to the large man held unconscious in her arms. As battered as she looked, her beauty was still hauntingly apparent.

Zempheda takes a shallow step forward, his arms resting hesitantly at his sides. Diala looks to the older woman behind her, and waits for her to take hold of the unconscious man in her arms before leaping up and wrapping them around Zempheda.

_I knew you'd make it…_

They hold each other close, saying no words. Eyes closed and tears streaming, Diala holds tight to Zempheda's body; her hands still shaking from the adrenaline. She picks her head up off of his shoulder and leans up to kiss him, holding the sides of his face with her hands. In spite of herself, she begins to cry.

"What's going on? What happened?" she says, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"I don't know," Zempheda replies sullenly. "The Imperator said the Council has issued the Exodus Protocol…" Diala takes a step back, her smile going vacuous.

"That… that can't be," she says, shaking her head. "That order is reserved for planetary evacuation. There has to be… be some…"

Before she can conclude her thought, they both start to feel an emergent trembling beneath them. Thin columns of clouded dust are shaken from the ceiling as the sound from the jostling debris on the ground is slowly drowned out by a dull rumbling. Zempheda, in almost rehearsed fashion, tells everyone to lie or sit against a wall.

As the shaking grows steadily unmanageable, Zempheda stumbles to the stairwell. He turns over his shoulder and glances at Diala.

They trade no words, but they both think it: _ I love you…_

Zempheda swallows, taking his first step up the stairs. No sooner does his foot touch the stone than the roar becomes deafening and a faint golden glow threads the Archive ceiling above. Through the shattered skylight in the Archive above, Zempheda can see the clouds stream and disintegrate as if some celestial brush were wiping them from the sky.

Suddenly, the door behind him leading to the understructure slams shut as clouds of dust blow past him and out of the Archive entranceway. A strong gust begins to pull him up the stairs, sucking him in to the chasm of the Archive. Grabbing onto a ridge in the wall, Zempheda struggles to hold himself to the ground as the golden glow grows brighter, drowning out the radiance of the blue plasma globes at the top of the stairs.

With all of his physical strength, he pulls himself to the ground and presses his back against the wall. Small bits of debris glance off of his reinforced uniform and are pulled into the gale wind just meters away. Just as he's able start inching down the stairwell, all sounds seem to stop.

His ears begin ringing as the light in the Archive becomes excruciatingly bright. Time seems to slow as the strong gust pulling him up the stairs recedes. The walls around him begin to crack and seep dust as the structure of the Archive begins to shake itself to pieces. He only has time to take in a breath before an immense force, greater than anything he's ever experienced, instantaneously sweeps overhead.

Zempheda barely manages to raise an energy barrier in front of him as he's almost sucked out into the blast. He can see the walls around him slowly atomize down to the barrier as the shaking becomes so intense that even his body, suspended in the air, begins to resonate. His veins bulge and face grimaces as he commits every ounce of power he has to maintaining the barrier. For what seems like a lifetime, he holds fast, straining every muscle in his body to propel his energy forward. Just as he can feel his strength give out, the blinding light subsides and the intense rumbling seems to fade.

His last vision before drifting into unconsciousness is the vacant, hazy sky above reflecting an unnatural golden afterglow.

En route to North City, 5:45 pm.

Approaching the city from the south, the Z-Fighters can already sense a powerful lingering energy residual. As they pass over the mountain peaks preceding the city, they all stare apprehensively at the crater just to the east.

"That's insane," Krillin trills. "What kind of an attack does that? It looks like someone took a chunk out of the mountains with an ice cream scoop."

Goku keeps his eyes fixed on the city; "The civilians in North City are our first priority. We have to make sure he's no—"

And then everyone felt it. Piccolo's ki sense triggers with such intensity that his antennae course with faint electricity. The burst is so strong that the Z-Fighters grind to a stop in mid-air and look immediately to the west.

"Was that him?" Krillin swallows, looking to Goku.

"It was," Goku nods.

Vegeta folds his arms and grunts to himself; "Very clever. He used North City to get us on the move. He's trying to triangulate us."

"I'm not so sure," Piccolo responds, looking back to the crater. "That attack was meant to destroy. He wouldn't waste that much energy on a ruse."

Krillin shakes his head, exhaling deeply. "Why not?" he adds rhetorically. "If he's as powerful as you say he is, then why not mess with our heads?"

To everyone's surprise, Goku regenerates a powerful flight aura. "It doesn't matter," he says, starting to build energy. "He's waiting for us; it'd be rude to keep him waiting."

Vegeta smirks at Goku; "Where has this Kakarot been all my life?"

Following Goku's lead, the rest of the Z-Fighters raise their auras and jet off towards the Gizard Wasteland.

Gizard Wasteland, 5:47 pm.

Zempheda takes in a series of heavy breaths. He sits cross-legged in the middle of a shallow crater looking at the crest of the sun as it recedes under the horizon. The red glow gives the unsettled dust lingering around him a crimson tinge. He's so transfixed with the splendor that he doesn't notice the five power levels descending upon him. To his surprise, he hears a voice booming out from behind him.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Rising to his feet, he turns to face the handful of fighters standing at the edge of the crater. As his eyes work over their faces, he pauses. His heart stops for a moment as his eyes rest on 18. The wave of thoughts and emotions crashing over him are broken by the same booming voice.

"We're here," Goku belts, "so there's no use in waiting."

Snapping back to reality, Zempheda glares at Goku; "So you're finally ready to die?"

Scowling back, Goku responds, "Don't make the mistake of underestimating us. We've never lost a fight." Zempheda laughs derisively, taking a casual step forward.

"That's irrelevant," he replies. "Everyone's never lost a fight until they do."

"I just want to know one thing," Goku demands. "Why did you attack us? What gives you the right to take innocent life?"

Stepping to within a few meters, Zempheda cracks a smirk; "Perhaps you can ask your son when you see him."

Without warning, Goku erupts forward in a fit of anger and buries his fist into Zempheda's stomach. As the air is forced out of his lungs, Zempheda tumbles backward head over heels. He is flung chest first into the edge of the crater, and collapses over onto his back. To everyone's surprise, he begins to laugh.

"What's so funny?!" Goku inquires angrily.

Slowly pulling himself off the ground, Zempheda gives Goku a chilling grin. His eyes fade into an abysmal black as the air around him begins to darken and condense.

The swirling air gives his voice a demonic distortion. "It's you," he growls. "This moment has been nearly a thousand years in the making. It is your atonement." Zempheda clenches his fists to his sides as a veil of dark energy condenses around him. "This, Saiyan, is my redemption."

Raising his hands to the sky, what Zempheda does next leaves the Z-Fighters in absolute shock.


End file.
